Perhaps you have encountered this situation before: you are walking, biking, or driving through a neighborhood. Your nose suddenly picks up the smell of something grilling. Perhaps meat, maybe vegetables. It is tinged with smoke. It smells good. But where exactly is that smell coming from?
Much of our cooking or food preparation in the United States takes place inside. We have kitchens that facilitate storing and making food. Others can’t see it (unless there is a prominent window). They may occasionally smell it.
Even if people are grilling outside, it often takes place in backyards. Few Americans grill in their front yards or by their front doors. This is an activity typically reserved for the more private backyard.
So where is the grill smell coming from? One hint might be whether you can see smoke. Different grill techniques or different grilled items might lead to more smoke. Could you follow it to a source?
And even if you did identify the location of the good grilling smells, it would be rare in the American setting for a stranger to approach the grill and/or griller. Unless it is taking place in a more public setting (a front yard? a park? outside a restaurant?), the grilling is an activity for the griller and their acquaintances, not for a broader audience.
In the moment, you will have to settle for enjoying the grilling smells from a distance. Perhaps it will prompt you to grill yourselves or find someone who will grill for you. It is a good moment – but it is also a reminder of food preparation in private spaces.
Over the last few months, people have cut down surveillance cameras owned by the company Flock Safety with an electric saw in upstate New York, thrown paint on them in Oakland, California, and rammed a truck into them in Idaho. One man in Florida sits in a lawn chair holding up a piece of cardboard on a pole to block the camera’s view. City governments have joined in by deactivating the cameras or canceling contracts with Flock in Fort Collins, Colorado; Eugene, Oregon; Madison, Wisconsin; Knoxville, Tennessee; Syracuse, New York; and Walla Walla, Washington…
Flock says it has 120,000 automated license plate reader (ALPR) and pan, tilt, and zoom (PTZ) cameras deployed throughout the US, capturing tens of billions of data points a month. Flock’s ALPRs automatically scan every license plate that passes them, while the PTZs record live footage that can be reviewed and analyzed. Because Flock cameras are all connected, the result is a nationwide latticework of recorded activity. Across the majority of states, a police officer in one state can be alerted if a car they’re looking for pops up in another and can inform the local authorities…
Over the last few months, Flock has been making headlines for all the wrong reasons. Police have been caught using the system to stalk exes and colleagues, and journalists have reported that, contrary to the company’s claims that it only logs vehicles, the cameras can be used to track people.
As more Americans now respond to the cameras, which communities will end up cancelling contracts and which ones will keep them? The list above in the first paragraph involves smaller big cities. Does this mean opposition to cameras is primarily in such communities? Or would opposition to cameras drop (1) in places with higher crime rates or (2) in places with higher fear of crime?
It will also be interesting to see how local leaders in different kinds of communities respond to public pressure. Who will resist opposition and what reasons will they give? The company offers a defense of their product and its use; whether local leaders use similar lines remains to be seen.
This is Xanadu, the Computerized Home of Tomorrow, which opened its doors in 1983 in Florida, strategically located just a few miles from Disney World’s Epcot Center. Xanadu’s Yale-trained architect, Roy Mason, wanted to create a walk-through instruction manual for building a smart home. Mason saw this blurring of architecture and sociality as the answer to the many problems of the American family: loneliness, boredom, frustration, parent-child conflict, and general depression. The result proposed automation as remedy and liberation.
Much like the techno-pessimistic nightmare imagined by Ray Bradbury’s short story “The Veldt,” in which housekeeping and child-rearing are ceded to automated homes, Xanadu’s “electric hearth” was run by a “House Brain” to control life support functions. (The House Brain is, in a way, another term for mother.) Staffed by a robot dubbed Robutler that remediated paid servant labor, the house aimed to take over a wide variety of tasks — but only as the owners wished. The Brain, meanwhile, was a personal assistant, presaging the integration of Alexa and Siri into smart home systems. It was designed to provide customizability in managing various aspects of middle-class life. It could call local plumbers and neighbors, offer telemedicine, menu planning, and even outfit selection via an automated clothes-retrieval closet.
Xanadu was not the first of its kind. In 1957, Disney unveiled the House of the Future in collaboration with MIT and Monsanto, which sought to showcase the engineering and design versatility of plastics. Visitors of Tomorrowland walked through the attraction and marveled at its features — microwave ovens, wall-mounted TVs, adjustable sinks, modular bedrooms — which would, of course, become commonplace in the decades to come. Likewise, Xanadu invited thousands of guests each day to see a possible home of tomorrow, augmented by technology that could be customized to conform to the changing needs and shapes of American families…
This mixed temporality is a classic trick of the model home: The space is staged to prompt viewers to imagine bringing these systems into their own lives now, while also presenting a new ideal of futuristic living…
People do not live the same way at different time points. This is true because of a variety of factors, including technological change that can introduce new opportunities or challenges and design of objects and places. Daily life changes.
But does new technology necessarily go along with new design? Put another way: could we have new technology while living in a world that still looks like the 1970s or the 2000s? Or could we have new designs for houses and domestic life but no significant changes in technology?
These houses constructed decades ago put design and technology together: they were a package deal. But I would guess our average home technology has changed more than the average home design. Still relatively few American houses are fully modernist inside and/or outside. New homes continue to remix older design features.
And I wonder how much those future visions of American homes contended with the many homes built decades ago they will not be retrofitted or redesigned or redeveloped. Moving to futuristic design is a long process with the many housing units from previous eras still standing and serving their occupants well. Similarly, integrating technology in an older home might be a challenge. It is one thing to put an Echo on the counter; it is another to put in full house air conditioning or run wires through multiple walls.
In this fabulous alternative history of the modern world, the academic and “party historian” Imogen Willetts looks at the last 500 years of civilisation through the sometimes blurry lenses of its after-dark scenes, with fascinating results. She begins by trying to capture what it feels like to go on a big night out, focusing on a phenomenon that, in 1912, the sociologist Émile Durkheim labelled “collective effervescence”. In one passage, she explains this by referencing dancing as part of ancient tribal hunting rituals, listening to Charli xcx’s 365, or singing along to Sweet Caroline with tens of thousands of other people in a stadium.
This is no dry academic study, then, and its mix of historical research, critical theory and conversational references to pop culture makes for a bright and compelling read. What Willetts calls the “seemingly superficial act of getting gussied up to drink, dance, have fun and meet people” is, of course, much more than that, and she scratches away at the layers with skill. Nightlife can contain, or enable, rebellion, community, innovation, art, love, sex and political revolution. From Japan to France, from Shanghai to Germany, via many detours to the United States, she examines historical movements as they might be seen from dusk till dawn.
Part of the appeal of collective effervescence is that individual people get caught up in a scene or moment or crowd. It is not just doing something fun or unique; it is collective activity that is something different compared to what an individual can experience alone. It is about taking part in something bigger.
Do we have good predictors of when nightlife crowds or activities can turn into society changing moments or movements? Nightlife occurs regularly in many places; what helps it turn into something consequential or when it spills out beyond the initial gathering or activity?
And since I study suburbs, I wonder about the lack of nightlife in many suburban communities. This is part of the appeal to many; suburbs are quieter places for people to live. On the other hand, cities are known for more nightlife options. How much does this contribute to what many perceive to be a lack of interest in social change in American suburbs?
There is a category of places that we know but we do not know. In the United States where driving is a daily part of life, people regularly pass through neighborhoods, communities, and places in which they rarely or never stop. It is just along the way. The driver is just driving through. What do we know about such places? A few thoughts, with the example of Gary, Indiana in mind as I have driven back and forth past Gary many times (and only stopped there a few times).
We are limited to what we can see from a moving vehicle. Yet, we can see some things while driving by, even at fast highway speeds. We tend to see what is along major roads, which can include road signs, billboards, big box stores, exits and intersections, some smaller commercial and residential properties. Some of the signs and properties try to get our attention, often to tell us about a brand, product, place, or attraction. This might tell us about the biggest things to see and do. Passing by Gary via highway, I can see a minor league baseball stadium, steel mills, and some bigger downtown buildings. I can see highway exits and the kinds of establishments that gather there. I see signs for an airport and a few other things to do.
We hear or tell stories about these places. I have read about Gary, heard about Gary, talked about Gary. Some themes: created out of sand dunes as an industrial suburb, steel mills, the home of the Jacksons, decline and white flight, limited development and reinvestment, and new ideas for revitalization. As I drive by, how does what I see contribute to or refute those stories? How much am I fitting what I see to a narrative I already have?
The few stops I have made are different than just driving by. Setting foot in a community, driving at slower speeds and maybe walking around, provides a different experience. So does talking to people or taking a tour. It helps to slow down, get to a pedestrian level, and have time to observe and interact. (See earlier posts about how to know a suburb or community – first steps, deeper steps.)
I could come up with a list of many other communities where the same is true: I have driven through it or passed by it and know relatively little about it. And if we tend to emphasize getting to our destination rather than seeing what is on the way on the journey, we could go through or by places hundreds or thousands of times. Highways do not facilitate getting to know places; this seems to be part of the argument about what happens to Radiator Springs in the Pixar film Cars. Trains may offer different views (and maybe some more stops) at similar speeds while airplanes allow people to just hop even faster over places without even seeing them.
There are ways this could be addressed. Could we get more information about places as we pass them? This is hard to do on road signs. How about voice explanations in maps or GPS systems? How about using the voices of local residents to describe their community and tell stories of what has happened?
Despite Cook County residents’ long, loud complaints about out-of-control property taxes and government spending, a majority of them couldn’t be bothered to turn out to vote in recent elections when given the chance to decide whether taxes should be hiked.
About 1 in 5 eligible voters decided the outcome of costly binding property tax questions in various suburbs in the past couple of years, according to a new study from the Cook County treasurer’s office…
Voter turnout in primaries is typically lower than general elections as it is, and even fewer voters participate in local consolidated elections.
But the report also found participation dipped on ballots for property tax questions in particular. It floated a few reasons why people who do vote might skip referendums: the questions are often at the bottom of the ballot or confusingly written…
Previous reports from her office have highlighted higher turnouts in wealthier and whiter areas. While the income trends continued in the 2025 and 2026 elections, there was not enough data to see whether the racial trends shifted because most of the referendums were in majority white communities.
It sounds like the factors cited above could be addressed. Don’t bury them at the bottom of the ballot. Make sure they are written in clear language. Help people know what is on the ballot far ahead of time. Put the tax questions on the bigger election cycles. For those who want to promote good governance (rather than even the appearance of sneaking things through on the ballot), this is doable.
I wonder if there would be any traction for elected officials to run on the platform of getting more people involved in local political decisions. Rather than targeting a small portion of voters or a political base, could someone aim to get more people to decide questions like these about property taxes?
And New York has less of a tradition of ownership.
Most Manhattanites have traded the advantages of owning their own place for a life in a great city. Chicago, historically, has not required that trade-off but has offered both.
You can rent an apartment until you can save enough to afford to buy a condo and then maybe a small home as your family grows. Or you can use the rent you get from one apartment in a two-flat to cover a mortgage and live upstairs yourself.
Our big advantage over cities like New York, you might say.
I wonder about these claims. Here is why:
Both cities have different neighborhoods or boroughs. This is part of who they are: the cities annexed neighborhoods and communities as they grew and these different places have unique histories. Both have sizable central business districts. Both have residential neighborhoods. Both have areas with lots of rented units, other areas with more homeownership.
The comparison to Manhattan seems to be doing a lot in the argument. Manhattan has a lot of residents – roughly 1.6 million – but the borough accounts for less than 20% of New York City’s population. Manhattan is expensive but it is not the same as other parts of the city, even if housing is expensive in New York City and the region overall compared to many other places in the United States.
The desire for homeownership is related to but different from the ability to purchase a home. Do people in New York City want to rent long-term or is that what is more available? How do people in New York and Chicago narrate their desired paths and then what is possible?
I spoke with nearly every community in Illinois that is opening or sealing a time capsule this year, and more often than not, what’s inside are, yes, business cards, a list of board members, speeches by mayors, lapel pins, corporate pamphlets, a city budget. For reasons unclear, a number of Bicentennial time capsules contain copies of JCPenney catalogs (probably so future generations can marvel at the price of jeans and socks). Please don’t misunderstand me, I love time capsules just like you love time capsules. There are so many time capsules, there are at least two businesses, Time Capsules Inc. of Pennsylvania, and Heritage Time Capsules of New York, dedicated to creating these small vessels, into which we are tasked with leaving meaningful objects for future generations. I just wish we were a little more … colorful, and meditative, and personal.
Early last month, DuPage County buried a capsule, inviting county leaders to contribute items. “The mayor of Wheaton and I closed the capsule and he reached across (the capsule) and shook my hand, and it meant a lot,” said Deborah Conroy, DuPage County Board Chair. “It was all of us working together, valuing our community.” Glendale Heights left an account of a daring rescue last year by two police officers on a frozen pond. West Chicago, founded in 1849 as a railway hub, left a toy train. Glenn Ellyn left a leaf from a 200-year-old tree. All thoughtful, culturally telling items. Less so: A garbage sticker from Lisle, a Trader Joe’s gift card (with no value) and annual fiscal reports…
We don’t tend to see our everyday lives as history.
I’ve written about the seven reasons Americans love suburbs. How easy is it to capture these reasons in a time capsule? Many of them require activities or people. A single-family home can be captured in a photograph or a book but it is harder to fit the actual space or what it was like to live there into a capsule. Perhaps provide more interactive elements, perhaps recorded ones (and hope the future openers have the media capability to use the recorded medium)? Or how to capture suburban driving and all it entails? Suburban local control is exemplified by lists of officials or official documents but doesn’t quite get at the experience of local control.
The focus on items is an interesting choice – something physical, can be touched and viewed – versus more experiential elements or accounts of regular life. What if a suburban time capsule included people describing their daily lives? Preserving oral histories brings its own complications but then people in the future could have some insight into how people used their time and how they thought about the world around them. Is the goal of the capsule to have some trinkets from the past or to understand people from the past?
Experiential elements could also provide room for different suburbs to highlight what is unique about their community. For those looking back from the future, what differentiates daily life in one suburb versus another? Objects can help tell this story but so could written or oral descriptions of community life. What were the important local spaces for the suburb? What did kids in the community grow up knowing about their suburb in comparison to others?
I may be thinking of this more as a researcher than someone who wants the excitement of burying or opening a capsule. To study and understand suburban life, certain records and objects can help more than others.
School closures have spiked 35 percent across the country over the past four years, propelled by a shrinking youth population and the end of covid-19 relief funds that had propped up education funding in some places.
For the fourth year in a row, the number of school closures rose nationally last year, according to data from the National Center for Education Statistics released last week. Districts closed more than 1,000 schools in 2025-26, compared with 755 in 2021-22. And more closures are planned, including districts in Houston, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Broward County in Florida.
Several cities are mentioned as is a county with suburbs in Florida. Without having the full list of the schools closing, it is hard to know whether these are primarily in cities, suburbs, or rural areas. This might line up exactly with where populations are growing and shrinking but it might not. Which people and communities (1) are more likely to push for school closures and (2) are more likely to push back against school closures (and attract the attention of the public and media)? Who has higher success rates countering decisions to close schools?
Suburban schools are only mentioned once in this story with the suggestion that people are moving to suburbs. Many suburbs have reputations for having good schools. Are these places (1) not losing population and (2) if populations are stagnant or declining, not willing to close schools?
If current population patterns continue, there will be more to see here with districts and communities grappling with this issue. Perhaps patterns will become even more pronounced and school closures become a marker of community vitality.
In Studio City, an 8-inch water main failed, flooding a street and temporarily leaving about 60 customers without water while crews completed repairs.
In Hollywood, another 8-inch water main ruptured, sending water into the street and shutting off service to about 70 customers as crews worked to restore water.
The most significant break occurred in West Hollywood, where a 110-year-old, 36-inch trunk line burst, releasing an estimated 17 million gallons of water onto streets and nearby properties…
According to the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, about 30% of the city’s water main lines are more than 80 years old, adding to concerns about the condition of the system…
LADWP said it is working to modernize the city’s water infrastructure as part of its $8 billion, five-year Water System Capital Plan. The project includes replacing 240,000 feet of water main pipe and 6,047 feet of trunk line pipe.
Replacing and/or repairing critical infrastructure is an ongoing task. Hopefully it gets replaced before it breaks and causes problems for the immediate vicinity.
What is hard to know from stories like these is how the number of breaks compares to patterns in Los Angeles or in other cities. How unusual is this series of breaks? How many break each month in cities with different levels of maintenance? What can be expected?
The average resident may not have much knowledge of the maintenance or the expected lifespans until something exposes the infrastructure. Perhaps it is a break or disruption in service. Perhaps it is another project which reveals all the things under the street. Perhaps it is an important budget discussion where choices about priorities, including infrastructure, need to be made. At these moments, the water flow is revealed for a short time and then it goes back to being something ordinary.
Legally Sociable 